It may have been that Draconus had been asleep, for he now started and straightened slightly. ‘Captain.’

‘I was to come here, milord, to tell you of your impending audience with Lord Anomander.’

‘Yes. I will speak to him. There is much to discuss.’

‘Instead,’ Kellaras resumed, ‘I must inform you that Anomander has ridden out with Silchas Ruin, to the Valley of Tarns. Urusander’s Legion draws close. There will be a battle before the sun has set.’

Draconus was motionless, and he said nothing for a long moment, and then he rose from the chair. ‘Where are my Houseblades?’

‘They ride to the battle, milord.’

‘This was not what was agreed.’

Kellaras said nothing.

‘Who has taken command of them, captain?’

‘Lord Anomander has chosen to set aside Mother Dark’s prohibition. He commands the forces of the Tiste Andii.’

‘And the highborn?’

‘They too assemble for the battle, milord. All are in attendance, with their Houseblades. Also, the Hust Legion returns to us, not as it once was, but nonetheless…’

Draconus moved past the captain, swinging open the door. When he set out down the corridor, Kellaras followed.

A damned pup again, rushing to someone else’s pace. Would I could take any door, to either side of this passage, and simply step out of this mess. Find myself in an empty room, a place of silence, big enough to swallow the echoes of my raging mind. Instead, he said, ‘Milord, will you ride after them?’

‘I will have what is mine,’ Draconus said.

‘In the Chamber of Night, milord, you acceded to Silchas Ruin’s request—’

‘He has deceived me, and I will know if his brother was part of that.’

‘Sir, your presence—’

Reaching the door leading into the hall, Draconus halted and turned to Kellaras. ‘Anomander understands honour. At least, he once did.’

‘He will yield to you your Houseblades, milord. I am certain of it.’

‘And see us withdraw from this farce?’

Kellaras nodded. ‘So I believe of my master, milord.’

Draconus bared his teeth. ‘If only to keep the loyalty of the highborn.’

‘Sir, will you make him choose?’

Draconus swung round again and moments later they were crossing the hall, the Consort indifferent to the Terondai beneath his boots.

They were not alone in the vast chamber. The High Priestess and the historian stood nearby, still in their outdoor garb, halted now by the abrupt appearance of Draconus. Kellaras saw in both faces a sudden, misplaced unease, and he wondered at that, even as both bowed to the Consort.

‘Milord,’ said Emral Lanear. ‘Does Mother Dark stir at last? Will she advise me on what must be done next?’

Draconus strode past her without replying.

Kellaras saw the shock on Lanear’s drawn face, followed swiftly by indignation. Beside her, the historian smiled without much humour, and rested a hand on the woman’s shoulder.

‘High Priestess, is it not clear? He rides to the Valley now.’